They complained loudly about getting stuck in traffic on the way to their exclusive health club, or bemoaned the fact that they’d have to rush to make their restaurant reservation at lunchtime.
Holly got the distinct impression that none of them had known a particularly hard life, although, to be fair, you could never be sure. Still, she’d have bet good money that not one of them had left home in search of a better life, escaping the misery of being poor and a virtual outcast.
But Holly herself had a lot to be thankful for, and she vowed to keep reminding herself of that. If she was ever in any doubt, all she had to do was conjure up the dread and fear she’d felt that first night in the Manchester hellhole.
That always served to put things into perspective.
* * *
The emaciated man who had appeared in the living room doorway at the dilapidated house had looked as if he’d just woken up.
‘Who are you?’ he’d croaked.
‘We were told to come here,’ Markus had replied nervously. ‘Just for a couple of nights. We—’
‘Got any stuff for me?’
‘What? No! No, sorry.’ Markus had patted his pockets and held up his empty hands to show he had no drugs.
The man’s bony features had hardened when he saw there would be no benefit to him. He’d turned to leave.
‘Where shall we crash, man?’ Markus had called after him.
‘Anywhere you can,’ he’d muttered, and shuffled back into the front room.
Markus had moved to the doorway and Holly had stayed behind him, peering over his shoulder.
The room had been gloomy, the heavy curtains almost closed. There had been a sour, rotten smell pervading the place and Holly had clamped her hand over her nose and mouth.
Groans emanated from the darkest corners and she saw vague writhing, tortured shapes.
‘We can’t stay here,’ she had hissed, stumbling back into the hall and pulling in a big breath of the slightly less polluted air.
‘We’ve no choice, Holly,’ Markus had told her firmly. ‘Wait here and I’ll have a scout around.’
Holly had huddled close to the front door, next to their luggage.
She’d felt a welcome trickle of cool fresh air through the broken glass behind her. Her stomach had felt raw with nerves and she’d thought she might need the loo soon, shuddering at the thought of the bathroom arrangements in a place like this.
The house had been shrouded in a curious silence, punctured only by moaning from the doomed figures she’d spotted in the room next door. She dreaded to imagine the pain those people were experiencing to be making such harrowing noises. They certainly weren’t sounds that arose from pleasure of any sort.
Goodness knows what danger she and Markus might be in here, and the risk of picking up some nasty disease had to be pretty high.
Why had Markus given her the distinct impression that his boss would be taking care of them when this was the true reality of what awaited?
At that moment, Markus had returned from upstairs, his face grim.
‘There are people everywhere, and every room is like that one.’ He’d shuddered, nodding to the room next to them. ‘There’s a free corner in one of the bedrooms. We should grab that now, I think. We can sleep in shifts to keep our belongings safe.’
‘Never mind keeping the luggage safe; we need to keep ourselves safe,’ Holly had countered. ‘I’d rather sleep in a local park than here.’
She’d felt close to tears and he’d slid his arm around her shoulders.
‘Come on, we can do this, Holly. It’s raining and freezing out there. I’ll make sure it’s just the one night, OK? At sunrise tomorrow we’ll leave.’
A wave of tiredness and hopelessness had rolled over her. What was the point in fighting? They were here now, so it was a case of just getting through to the morning.
‘We will look back soon and laugh at this, I promise.’ Markus had winked at her. ‘Tomorrow we will move on to our new life.’
‘Where’s your boss?’ she’d pleaded. ‘I thought he had everything in hand.’
‘Tomorrow, you’ll see.’ Markus had shrugged.
That night had been ten years ago now, and despite Markus’s assurances, she still wasn’t looking back and laughing.
A clear, cultured voice flooded the showroom via the store tannoy system. Cath, the receptionist, was trying to chase down Mr Kellington.
Grateful for the interruption to her disturbing memories, Holly set about neatening the elaborately carved chairs nestled around the bespoke Italian dining room set.
She ought to be counting her blessings. Finding a place to live with Mrs Barrett and securing a decent job that had the financial potential to kick-start her recovery plans was something to celebrate.
But as usual, whenever she ought to be enjoying a rare moment of contentment, the troubling memories always found a way of elbowing their way in and ruining everything all over again.
She resolved to put a stop to it. She would give everything to this job and be a success.
That was by far the best way for her to begin the healing process, and to ensure that she and Evan would be together again. She felt it in every fibre of her being.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cora
When Cora got home from town, she went straight upstairs.
She took a cursory look in Holly’s bedroom. Everything seemed to be in order in there. The girl was quite neat and tidy, which was a relief.
Cora had read in the newspaper recently that young people from Holly’s generation had been largely spoiled by over-generous parents and consequently were barely self-sufficient. It was probably an unfair generalisation.
Holly hadn’t said much about her early family life, but she had made one or two vague comments that had led Cora to believe she hadn’t been particularly cosseted, nor indeed nurtured appropriately, as one might expect.
Cora walked over to the window, and that was when she saw the flashing green light on the floor. A laptop.
She’d popped her head round the door yesterday evening to bid Holly goodnight and the girl had been sitting up in bed tapping away on it. Nothing unusual about that, but she’d had the most dreadful scowl on her face and Cora could have sworn her eyes looked moist.
She’d slammed the lid shut and smiled over-brightly, bidding Cora goodnight as if nothing was wrong. Which, of course, usually indicated that something was.
Last year, Cora had attended a free ten-week computing course at the local library. It had covered basic IT skills and had been billed as suiting ‘silver surfers’, which she had found a silly and irritating term.
Surprisingly, she’d taken to it like a duck to water. Their tutor, Anna, had shown them how to compose a letter, write and send emails, and negotiate the internet.
It had been a revelation to Cora: whole department stores and supermarkets to browse at the click of a button!
She had fully intended buying a computer to use at home after the course, and Anna had offered to help her select and purchase a suitable model. But then the tutor had moved away to care for a sick relative, and Cora’s new-found computing enthusiasm had seemed to disappear with her.
She stared at the laptop. She could open it right now and, provided it hadn’t got one of those password locks on it, have a little practise before her skills became too rusty. She’d been thinking of getting a lightweight coat for the spring, and it would be useful to look around online to save her walking all round town in search of one.
She felt sure Holly wouldn’t mind.
Cora glanced at her watch then and realised the time had quite run away from her. It would have to wait for another day after all.
She walked out of the room and across the small landing. Picking up her bulging handbag, she went into her own bedroom and closed the door behind her, setting to work immediately.
Huffing and puffing, she eventually managed to get everything sorted, and only had the bed to make and the curtains to open when she heard a tap on the bedroom door.
‘Hang on,’ she managed, perching on the edge of the bed to get her breath back and calm her heart rate down.